by Jerric Chong Richard Farrant (c. 1528 – 1580) was a Tudor musician and theatrical producer who sang in the Chapel Royal (the royal choir) and later became the master of its boy choristers. His job – besides directing the choir and playing the organ – involved helping to entertain Queen Elizabeth I by getting […]
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by Siddiq Islam (3am, Sunday, 5 February 2023) Dear little Peter, he sleeps where he chooses. He picks out a spot that he likes, never loses, and that’s where he lies down, and that’s where he snoozes. This evening, our dear little Peter, it seems, invites to his home but the girl of his dreams! […]
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by Sam Hardaker This past Tuesday, 31 January, Oriel’s dining hall opened its doors to a new type of formal dinner: a multicultural formal. After careful organisation and advertisement by our very own JCR Equalities and Access Officer, Shubh Kumar, the dinner featured four courses, featuring a Greek meze platter, a Moroccan sorbet, Tandoori chicken […]
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by Beary McBearface Hello there! My name’s Beary, one of the giant teddy bears who hang out in the JCR – I’m the brown one; my purple counterpart is John Henry. As The Poor Print’s self-anointed agony aunt, I’m here to help you with any troubles you’re facing. Please send me your college (or general) […]
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by Anonymous To the girl across from me in the Rad Cam:You know well who you are;You thought I missed your quiet looks,But I hold them in my heart. ‘Maybe he’ll Oxfess me! Or pass a note –He’d have to be adroit!’No doubt you’re thinking, or daydreaming.I’m sorry to disappoint … ‘A Maccies date, then, […]
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by Anonymous Oh, how I envy the common woman,Free to let herself roam,Walking the world and its streets,Dogs out; feeling for a bone. But I cannot join her, this woman,On her quest to free her toes.Alas, I must keep them hidden.Hidden from friends and foes. For you see, gentle reader,With your sumptuous, brittle talons,I cannot […]
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by The Grey Prince Under that pernicious smileA gouda grin,To look upon your eyes,I am blacksticks blue,I long to be camembert,Shared together,My heart crumbles as Cornish cheddar,To chew on those delightful digits,Five counties,Jealously guarded by a leather cage,Doc Martens.
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by Hani Ali ‘Her abode is concealed in the lowest recesses of a cave, wanting sun, and not pervious to any wind, dismal and filled with benumbing cold; and which is ever without fire, and ever abounding with darkness.’ I have been acquainted with Envy for a long while. My futile attempts at keeping her […]
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by Thomas Darcy What I have to say is that I ultimately don’t trust these Poor Print people when they say the issue’s theme is just a suggestion. I accept that many pieces before me and no doubt after (pending continued JCR funding) in fact have little relation to the others that exist around them. […]
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The Poor Print 